Crap

Good news/bad news day.  After having the IUD out, I got retested and am not in menopause but peri-menopausal.  Grate (my nerves)!  Unfortunately, that means I need to take tamoxifen which reacts poorly with my ssri, Cymbalta.  Cymbalta is the ONLY ssri that works for me.  Others have given me worlds of troubles including colitis, the crazy, total lack of sex drive/ability to achieve orgasm (sorry fellas), the CRAZY, the shakes and just plain not working.  I am going in to talk about all this, but frankly.  I am freaked right the fuck out.

On Being Human

Reprinted with Permission by http://yo-loves.tumblr.com/

As much as we want to pretend otherwise, the human experience is not a pretty thing. In our modern culture we are bombarded with images depicting the human ideal as a goal for each of us to attain. According to these images we should each resemble Kim Kardashian more than, well, anybody in the Honey Boo Boo household. (This is despite the fact that Honey Boo Boo’s family seems to have far healthier relationships with one another.) Our culture tells us that we should be airbrushed and pristine at all times and keep the gore of life tucked neatly away so as not to make other people uncomfortable.

But, let’s be real, life is messy. I do believe that we are all spiritual beings having a human experience. A big part of having a human experience is being tethered to this gross physical sack of blood, bones, pus, and ooze. This ‘sack’ is what defines the human experience in that it both affects the being of our soul and is prone to breaking down. Our bodily instinct of self preservation makes it only natural that we would feel uncomfortable with this. However, embracing the break down is an integral part of really living a human life.

When I recently injured myself, one of the hardest things to deal with was the response from the other members from my yoga teacher training group. It was painful because there was no response. Despite the fact that they all knew multiple ways to get in touch with me, no one reached out to see how I was doing for some time. I felt like a broken toy that had been tossed aside because it didn’t work anymore. In talking to my close friends I discovered that my experience was far more common than I would have thought. One good friend told me how her sister was dumped by a group of women that she had trained for multiple triathlons with after an injury put her on the sidelines. Another friend, a young woman who grapples with a sometimes debilitating disorder, told me about a time when she felt rejected and objectified due to bodily break down. She had just been released from the hospital and was at Whole Foods buying some much needed groceries. While struggling to do her normal shopping from a wheelchair another shopper stopped to open gawk at her straining to reach the asparagus. My friend described the woman as a typical health conscious person: she appeared to have just come from a yoga or gym class and was buying healthy foods, all in a vain attempt to ward off illness and death. I’m sure this stranger was a perfectly compassionate and kind person, but it would seem that coming face to face with the reality that my friend sometimes has to live was enough to pop her out of her comfortable bubble.

And, sadly, I have to point the finger at myself as well. I’ll be honest, there’s something about people with tubes coming out of them that just scares me. As an elementary school child, we had “adopted grandparents” that we would visit in the nursing home once a week. All the other kids thought it was great, I thought it was terrifying. All those old people tied up to machines with various wires and tubes, I was only 8 years old and didn’t know what to do. I truly believe that removing ourselves from injury and disease is an innate defense mechanism build into our bodies. However, as we mature we become masters of our responses to the world and need to learn to respond with compassion as opposed to fear. One day each and every one of us will have the opportunity be in the position to watch our bodies fail us.

I know a brave woman, who is challenging her friends and family on this ground. This woman recently was diagnosed with breast cancer and underwent surgery this past Thanksgiving. Upon logging into my Facebook the other day, I was greeted with a photograph of blood. Her blood. Apparently there was a slight malfunction with her port and a bit of her blood ended up spilling to the floor. Did she freak out? I don’t know, I wasn’t there, but I don’t think so. I do know that she made a dash for every camera in the house in order to document her humanity. And then, did she keep it quietly to herself, sweeping reality under the rug and putting on a painted smile? Not a chance, she posted that right up on her Facebook page for all to see. She gave her loved ones a gift, the opportunity to examine their own discomfort. I have to admit, that move made her a little bit of a hero to me.

It is difficult enough to understand the truth that our authentic self lies in our spiritual being. The fact that we are tethered to this physical vehicle for duration of our human experience makes it exceptionally difficult. We must perform the balancing act of both remember our spiritual truths as well as fully engage with the human experience. Is it possible to be conscious of both aspects of our being? I think so. Being sick or injured opens new doors in that it allows us to experience this life in a completely different way. Instead of shunning others when they don’t feel well, or feeling anger at your own body when it seems to betray you, try instead turning to it with compassion and look for the lessons that are to be found in this embodied experience. Clearly this is something that we are all meant to learn. As Krishna so aptly reminded Arjuna in the Bhagavad Gita: the only way to avoid death is to avoid birth.

Check out some of my girls at:

http://lynsiemae.wordpress.com/

http://corakickingcancersass.blogspot.com

And then there was blood.....

We had a small malfunction with my port today.  There was blood on the floor.  Sort of a pretty pattern.  Blood doesn't really bother me. But it reminded me how messy life is.

Today is also the day that 26 people, mostly very young children were killed.  I had planned to write a very long and angry post about this.  But I can't.

Mostly I just cry.

Never forget

I just said to myself, "Well, now that I am a non-drinker, we can save money for those more expensive trips...."

Woah.  I am or was a pretty hard core drinker.  (1/2 pint a night of brandy or a bottle of white wine.)  I don't even want to be a full time non-drinker.  I don't expect to be.  But the fact that my mind is wrapping itself around that thought is pretty amazing.

I was talking to my sister in law the other day.  She had a mastectomy last year.  Had a scary infection.  Just a really bad time.  She said she lost 20lbs when she was fighting but has gained it all back.

I need to make this clear to anyone reading this blog.  I need to make this loud and clear if you are currently fighting your own cancer.  When you get better, the fight does not end.  Let me say that again:

YOU CAN NEVER STOP FIGHTING YOUR CANCER.  EVER.

Congratulations, you need to watch your eating, your alcohol use, your exercise, your environment, FOR EVER.

Failure to do this WILL result in your remission being shorter than it could be.  So if you want to just forget this little episode, when you once had cancer, remember this post.  Remember this, when your doctor says you have cancer again.

(This post is as much for me as for you.)

NEVER FORGET.

Not unlike childbirth

...you may forget most of this.  It's been less than 11 days and little things are dropping off my memory.  I really have to get the updates done before they are gone.

Itchy.

Long Night

Started yesterday with a Doctor's appointment.  I was scolded well for not "resting".  I hate resting.  I had been on the (desk top) computer too many hours the day before, got in a lot of pain, swelled, freaked right the fuck out.

I'm fine. Just back from the surgeon.  Everything looks good to her.  Next up is oncology.

Still tired.  But honestly, doing well.

Tears, again.

I had intended to catch up on this journal this morning but slept until 11:15 after an evening with fighting with Jack (14) until we were both exhausted.  I know I am not the best parent.  I didn't have a very good example.  I am boggled  by some of his behaviors and don't have much in my wheel house to correct them.  So we argue, he pouts until I cry, and we both go to bed angry and frustrated. Derek tries, he really does, but really what do you do about 14 year old boys?  It's as if their common sense has left them and all that is left is "lazy and messy".  Yup.  I suck at being a mom.  I really do.

[Crying while in pain is awesome by the way]

Today I return to the plastic surgeon in charge of the rebuild.  I am still bleeding into the ports, but much much less.  My chest hurts, my bandages itch, I don't feel like eating, sleeping is hard especially when on such a high liquid diet.  I was up three times last night, which is now the norm, but not easy when getting out of bed is still a struggle.

This is not the first day, nor the last I want to give up the fight, to just stand down and let the universe take me.  I am lazy and messy.

by ~aphostol on Deviant Art

Support is made from love.

Be love.